Jar of Hearts
by MistakenIllusion
Summary: What do you do when your admirers hand their hearts to you on a silver platter? Put them in a jar, of course! In which hearts are literal metaphors to prove how much you care about someone.


**Jar of Hearts**

_What do you do when your admirers hand their hearts to you on a silver platter? Put them in a jar, of course! In which hearts are literal metaphors to prove how much you care about someone._

* * *

It all kicks off when a brave – or recklessly stupid – Sakura walks up to the moody, brooding prodigy with something concealed in her hands. She's shaking uncontrollably. Like perfect chakra control, emotions are something she can and _will_ master. But that's yet to happen.

'I want you to have this. And I want you to chase me.'

Sasuke is shocked at this proposal, but by no means shows it. He just looks at her with mild interest, the girl who is stood there, pouring her heart out to him.

Literally. She drops the hidden surprise into his hands.

Her heart. Adorned in pink pastel flowers – sakura blossoms, like her namesake.

Of course, he doesn't understand the anguish beneath the sleepless nights leading up to this confession. All he knows is that her trusting words have given him _power. _And he intends to use it.

'Why?' His question could mean a multitude of things. _Why me? Why now? _Interpret it as you will, Sakura.

She goes as pink as her hair. She's not entirely sure why – she _knew _he'd be like this. Turning her back on him, she starts to walk away, taking a deep calming breath every time her foot hits the ground.

It's not worth gracing him with an answer, or else she _knows_ she'll punch his smug face with Herculean strength. Let that be a lesson to anyone who ever tells her she hits like a girl.

He follows her. He thinks he's upset her – _you don't say, genius – _and wants to make amends.

It's not long before he catches up with her – he only has to take one step for every two of hers. He grabs her wrist.

She stills.

'Why?' he repeats. He _really _wants an answer.

'It's obvious isn't it?' she drones. Ironically, the girl with the world's biggest mood swings can out-deadpan an Uchiha.

She sighs at his ignorance. _Men. _'I want to be important to you.'

It's a lot for her to ask of him, but he of all people knows that if you don't ask, you don't get. So he may or may not admire her courage.

He'll never tell.

His bleak black eyes meet her hopeful green ones as his fingers close around hers, holding her hand out in front of him. He returns the gift to her open palms with surprising gentleness.

Her smile falters.

'You _know _I can't take this.'

If he did, it would make things...complicated. But he doesn't say this. He just states facts without offering any explanation. But that's OK. In fact, it's just like him.

Instead of closing her fingers around it, she lets the blossoms separate, and they float around her in the cool breeze. Her heart is breaking into pieces. But that's OK, too. She's setting it free.

'Let's never speak of this again,' are her parting words.

He nods. But when he looks up, she's already gone.

Foolish girl. She should've known that he couldn't possibly take it, because he would never forgive himself if it broke under his care.

* * *

The latest to bloom is always the fairest of all.

Like Sakura Haruno.

This detail hasn't gone unnoticed by the _is-he-is-he-not _jealous Sasuke. He's maintained a safe, secure seat in her life. Friendship has always been the form of affection that carries the least risk.

That's not to say he's simply stood there idly as he's watched her become swamped by a string of admirers. True, she turned down the vast majority on her own. But if not, a threatening crack of the knuckles and a condescending sneer were enough to scare them off. They weren't good enough for her, anyway. _Pansies._

His attitude makes her a laugh. A lot. Sometimes she jokes that the stone-cold Sasuke Uchiha is hiding a warm, fuzzy heart. _Like a freaking teddy bear._ All of these ridiculous allegations sparked by his jealousy.

True, he hasn't showed any signs of making _his _move anytime soon. But that's because traces of her old kindness have vanished, ever since _that _day – when her cherry blossoms were scattered in the wind. Marking a line he knows he can't cross.

But what riles him is that _anyone _else can cross the bloody line. Seriously, you should see some of the idiots that have lined up to woo her over the years. One of them was allergic the flowers he tried to give her. The snot got there first.

And yet she still keeps all the hearts she's given. Every single one. In a glass jar.

Who even _does _that?

* * *

Today, he _will_ confess.

Yeah – he doesn't exactly have a master plan. He just hopes that wingin' it will suffice. God forbid if anyone were to ever know he just thought the words _wingin' it. _

It's her sixteenth birthday. She's told everyone she doesn't want to be showered with presents – because she already has everything she wants. But he won't listen. He knows exactly what he wants to give her.

As an Uchiha, he's good at many things – being arrogant is one of them – but one of the things he's not-so-good at (not that he'd ever admit it) is organisation. He finds this out the hard way when he searches his room. Hell, he searches the whole freaking _mansion. _And he _still _can't find the damn thing he needs.

He'll have to make do with just his words. Being the monosyllabic guy he is, he's screwed.

He arrives at her house, letting himself in. Please note, he is not a _stalker _or anything – but with their _what's mine is yours _attitude, he naturally has the key to her house. Because that's what friends do.

When he climbs up to her room, he sees the dobe already beat him there. _He's always had too much energy for his own good, _Sasuke thinks begrudgingly, and prepares to proceed with a classic Uchiha sulk.

He stops when he realises what's _actually _happening in front of him. Instead of giving it to her, he appears to be fishing his heart _out _of the jar.

The dobe's heart nearly blinds him. Unsurprisingly, it's made from solid sun. What _does _surprise him is that it's not bright orange as well.

'Thank you for taking good care of it, Sakura-chan.'

'No problem, Naruto – it helped me a lot.'

_What a strange thing to say. _Then Sasuke gets it. Sun. Sakuras. The sun nurtures flowers. And lets them grow.

That's exactly what's happened to her heart. Well, after they found the pieces and put them back together.

'I hope Hinata-chan accepts my confession.'

'Of course she will, dobe.'

They both jump. Sasuke feels a twinge of guilt, for intruding on what appears to be a personal moment. After all, despite him and Naruto being best friends, the idea of _them_ two talking about girly things like this is just..._weird._

'Shut up, teme. We all know you're no better because you have a crush on –'

He doesn't finish his sentence because dodging a chidori requires too much of his attention. He's never been good at multitasking. With a mumbled 'thanks again, Sakura-chan' he makes a hasty exit, leaving Sasuke and Sakura together.

Alone.

There's a _very_ awkward silence. Despite being such good friends, they've never ended up alone together since _that day. _By no accident, on her part.

'Hello, Sasuke-ku –'

'Go out with me, Sakura.'

She nearly chokes with shock. _'What?'_

'You heard me.'

She just looks at him. Sure, thirteen-year-old Sakura would be jumping with joy round about now, but this Sakura likes to think she's developed dignity over the years.

'If that's meant to be a joke, it's not funny.'

He frowns at her. It is not a _joke, _Uchihas do not simply _joke, _especially not about things like _this._ Does she have any idea of the balls it takes to stand here practically spilling his heart out –

– Oh, wait...

'Hn.' He's annoyed at himself for not figuring it out sooner.

She bursts into peals of laughter. 'I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun. You just took me by surprise.'

'Answer the question.'

'I didn't hear a question. Just the arrogant Sasuke Uchiha being his usual bossy self.'

He groans. She is truly _annoying_ to make him spell it out. Though he guesses he's paying the price for his karma.

'Will – you – go – out – with – me – Sakura?'

'No.'

_Ouch. There goes my pride._

'Why not?' He doesn't even care that he sounds like a whining toddler round about now.

'Not until I have proof, Sasuke-kun. Not even for you.'

He sees what he did all those years ago. The young, carefree girl, who used to smile at him for no good reason, has been replaced by a cynic.

* * *

'I've looked everywhere and I still can't find it.'

'Not good enough.'

* * *

'Cut me some slack, Sakura.'

'No.'

'Hn.'

* * *

'You've got to believe me.'

'Shut up before I throw tomatoes at you.'

...

'_What?'_

* * *

She's so engrossed in the film they're watching that she doesn't realise his arm has been draped around her for the past hour or so.

_You still got it, Sasuke._

He must have a death wish, because he's in one of _those_ moods – wanting to see just how far he can push his luck. He leans down to kiss her cheek. And misses.

She finds herself responding to soft, warm lips on her own.

She pulls away in confusion. _Too quickly, _he thinks begrudgingly.

'What was that for?'

'Curiosity.'

She whacks him round the head with her bowl of popcorn. The one time he _is _joking, she just doesn't get it. _Women._

'Kidding.' He pushes away the offending popcorn bowl, spilling it all over the floor. That will be fun to clean up later.

'So what exactly possessed you to –'

'– I've wanted to do that for a while.'

What he's expecting – slash _hoping for_ – is a shocked 'really?' followed by more kissing _(hey, she's a good kisser!)._

What he gets instead is a sharp jab in the ribs.

'You're skating on thin ice, Uchiha.'

'Hn.'

* * *

After a long day of training, he finds himself in her house. To ease any tension before it arises, he drowns himself in sake. Sakura makes no attempt to stop him. A drunken Sasuke can be very entertaining.

The problem with drunk people is they can't control what they say. And the first thing he says is, 'Why won't you believe me, Sakura?

'Let's not talk about that, Sasuke.'

'No _kun? _That hurts, Sakura.' He theatrically mimes extreme heartache. It's so over-the-top she can't help but snigger.

'Go home. You're drunk.'

'Not too drunk to do this.' He leans forward and catches her lips with his. They're every bit as soft as he remembers. He smiles light-headedly before – reluctantly – pulling away to hiccup.

She pulls a face.

He frowns. 'Nothing I do pleases you anymore, does it? I remember back in the day, you'd be thrilled if I even _looked _at you.'

She decides her best bet is to get him to sleep. But in this state, he's not fit to leave the house. Somehow, she manages to drag him upstairs and tries – in vain – to coax him into her bed.

'Only if you'll sleep here with me – _hic – _Sakura.'

He winks at her suggestively. _Damn_ _good-looking boys that know they're good looking._ She rolls her eyes, and silently curses Jiraiya, blaming him for the overactive sex drives of Konoha's eligible bachelors.

He looks at the full jar on her bedside table. Picking it up, he empties its contents onto the bed.

'Why do you keep them all, Sakura?'

'I don't have to explain myself to you.'

He gives her a _look._

She sighs. He won't budge – he knows it, she knows it. She may as well get it over with. He'll have forgotten in the morning, anyway.

'It's a safe place for them until they're needed again. Plus, it's nice to be liked. Go ahead, judge me.'

He ignores her, his gaze dropping to the vast collection. Like the bright green one gleaming with _youth_ from Lee. Kiba's, looking exactly like a heart-shaped Akamaru, complete with wagging tail. Heck, there's even one stamped with his clan symbol – from his own _brother, _no less.

'You'd be quite the heartbreaker.'

She shakes her head. 'I know how fragile they can be. It's not right to take them for granted.'

He knows that's a direct dig at _him._

He picks up one he hasn't seen before. It's made of ice – so magnificent, it could be carved out of the finest crystal. He recognises it as his own – he's equally cold, fragile, but striking, nevertheless.

Just like that, everything fits into place. Now he knows why he was never able to find it, before. She had it all along.

He hands it to her. 'Is this enough proof for you?'

'This one is _yours?'_

She gapes at him. When it falls into her hands, it transforms into a pool of water. He smirks at his little victory.

'What do you know – you make my heart melt.'

She's not too dazed to hit him.

'That was so _corny!'_

* * *

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